The Dance of Death by Kate Sedley Page A

again featured Reynold Makepeace and Jeanne Lamprey and a whole host of grinning skeletons who were dancing round and round me in a ring.
    I awoke the following morning with a crick in my neck and feeling far from refreshed. By the time I had finished dressing, I was in a foul temper, angry with all the world and ready to take offence if someone so much as looked at me the wrong way. Sensing my mood, I was given a wide berth at breakfast by the duchess’s servants, so I seized the opportunity to look around at the neighbouring tables to see if I could spot the wine-server of the previous evening, but there was no one resembling him that I could make out – at least, not enough to say positively, ‘That is the man.’ My guess was probably correct: he had already left the castle.
    A page came to tell me that Timothy wanted to see me as soon as I had finished eating. ‘The same room as yesterday, overlooking the water-stairs.’ The boy nodded towards my plate, indicating the half-eaten oatcake. ‘Don’t you want that?’
    I shook my head and he leaned over and grabbed it, cramming it into his mouth all in one go.
    â€˜Don’t they feed you in this place?’ I asked. ‘It’s as dry as last week’s bread.’
    He grimaced. ‘Her Grace doesn’t believe in too much indulgence of the flesh.’
    Not now, I thought, not now she’s an old woman, but in the past . . . that might well have been a different story.
    I found the spymaster waiting for me, impatiently pacing up and down the room. He rounded on me as I entered. ‘Where have you been?’
    â€˜At breakfast,’ I snapped. ‘And pretty poor victuals they were, too. That’s beside the point. I overslept, but there was a reason for it.’
    â€˜It had better be a good one.’
    â€˜Oh, it is,’ I said, seating myself on one of the stools. ‘The best.’ And I told him what had happened.
    Timothy cursed softly under his breath. ‘Would you recognize this server again?’
    I pursed my lips. ‘I might, although there was nothing outstanding about him. Couldn’t you ask the duke? His Grace might know who he is.’
    My companion snorted derisively. ‘I don’t suppose the duke even glanced at the man’s face, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know his name. He doesn’t recognize half his own servants, let alone his mother’s. But why do you think this fellow suspected you?’
    I explained and received a tongue-lashing for my pains.
    â€˜You must be more careful,’ Timothy ended, but then sat down beside me and patted my arm, probably being able to tell from my expression that I was in a right royal rage. ‘However, I suppose it wasn’t really your fault,’ he added placatingly. ‘And at least it’s put us on our guard. We know now that the Woodvilles have got wind of something, but thanks to the fact that you had already committed the paper’s contents to memory and then destroyed it, they still don’t know what it is we’re after.’
    I was in no mood to be buttered up and asked abruptly, ‘Where do I find this Humphrey Culpepper, then? Stinking Lane, did you say?’
    Timothy nodded. ‘It’s off the Shambles. The first turning after Pentecost Lane as you come from West Cheap.’
    â€˜Which house?’
    â€˜The third one on the left.’
    I was surprised and showed it. ‘Not like your men to be so precise,’ I sneered, getting a little of my own back. ‘They must have been having one of their better days.’
    Timothy scowled. ‘None of this is a joke, Roger. It’s damnably dangerous.’
    â€˜Oho!’ I exclaimed. ‘The truth at last! Of course it’s dangerous. I told you yesterday we were dabbling in treason. It’s all very well saying that the duke will protect us. He may not be able to. He could be in the Tower – or